


Our Last Best Hope

by Cordelia_Sun



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen, Not Prime Time 2015 - Treat Fic, Post-Peacekeeper Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 23:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4282905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordelia_Sun/pseuds/Cordelia_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lost her once and he'll do anything to prevent it from happening again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Last Best Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [templeandarche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeandarche/gifts).



"Can you help her?" demanded Crichton and I damn near jumped out of my skin when he slammed Winona on the metal bench.

The scrawny Sebacean male in front of us was tougher than he looked; he studied the pistol in Crichton's grip and took in the tableau before him with no more than a slight raise of his brow.

I guess we aren’t _that_ scary as a group. Yeah, it's obvious Aeryn’s an ex-Peacekeeper and Crichton looks a hell of a lot like one, but the toddler in the papoose on Crichton's back seriously takes the edge off all that swagger and black leather. And me? When are folks ever scared of a little Nebari tralk like me?

More fool them.

The male sneered and opened his mouth as if he was about make some frellwit remark. Then his eyes must have registered the ice chip glint in Crichton’s blue eyes and the white skin of his knuckles wrapped tight around Winona. Narl or no narl, you'd have to been pretty tinked to mess with a guy who looked as edgy as Crichton. He swallowed hard and appeared to reconsider his approach.

"Perhaps... perhaps. What's wrong with..." he paused and his eyes flickered from the gun, to Aeryn, to John, "her?"

"I don't know. I can't... we can't fix her. She's _dying!_ "

Aeryn's eyes widened and she turned to John with her mouth hanging open in shock. It was the first time we'd heard him use that word.

John scrubbed his face with his free hand, trying to rub an element of control back into his mind I guess, and sighed, "They told me on the orbital transfer station you can help. Can you? _Please?_ "

This was the fourth place we'd tried and, from the look on the male's face and the way he sucked the air in through his teeth, it was gonna be the fourth place we'd fail. This journey, this quest, had taken us half way across the sector and everyone's nerves were frelled. We were all tired.

Even the narl strapped up snug on Crichton's back, pink cheeked and drooling, was showing signs of stress; he'd been squalling more than he usually did.

"John?" Aeryn touched John's hand with the tips of her fingers and traced light brushes across the hairs on the back of his hand. Gentle; trying to coax him down the way only she could, "don't get your hopes up. Maybe it's time to stop?"

Aeryn was tired too. She wanted what he wanted, but she always did have a better clue about the time to give up. Crichton was never any good at quiting; he's famous for it! I mean... amongst other things.

"Oh baby, you know that's never gonna happen." He gave her a tight smile, clasped her hand and pulled it up to his mouth; pressing a soft kiss against the backs of her fingers.

I averted my eyes for a microt. Those little intimate moments are hard to watch. Each one reminds me of what I don't have. What I've lost.

But, but... don't get me wrong, I'm happy for Aeryn and the Old Man (and yeah, even their dribbling kid.) Their moments are a hard won miracle.

When Crichton let go of her hand Aeryn sighed and rested her head against his shoulder; burying her face in the soft leather of his jacket. She blew out a heavy breath and let her eyelids flicker shut; there were dark shadows in the hollows of her eyes. I could tell she just wanted to get back to Moya and sleep. Sleep had been pretty scarce the last few weekens. Especially for Aeryn.

The male ignored this exchange; he couldn't tear his gaze from Winona.

"How old is she?" asked the male.

"I... I don't know." Crichton blushed, flustered at his inability to answer even this most basic question, "I've never really thought about it."

"Age is important. The older they are the less effective my methods." The man shrugged, "I suppose she doesn't look _too_ old. She's been through some rough times? Has she been modified in any way?"

John glanced at Aeryn, who kept her eyes shut and merely nodded.

"Not since I got her though." Crichton added.

"Well, it'll cost you," said the man and sucked the air through his teeth again, "but I reckon we might do a deal."

"Anything... money is no object in this matter. Understood?"

"John!" Aeryn snapped, horrified. Our funds were plentiful, but not unlimited.

"Your negotiating skills are frelled, Crichton," I said with a giggle; trying to lighten the mood.

"Chi, I almost lost her once," Crichton turned his big sad eyes on me. He was in no mood for giggling and there's never any point arguing with him when he's like that, "If I can stop that happening again I will. I don't care what it takes."

"Then we can do business!" the Sebacean clapped his hands and rubbed them together; a cheerful grin plastered across his face.

Crichton's face broke into a wide grin, awash with relief, and some of the tension uncoiled from his shoulders. He loosened his grip on Winona and traced the tips of his fingers across her handle as he pulled away.

"You hear that baby," he whispered, "everything's gonna be okay."

"Oh, for frell's sake John," Aeryn snapped, "it's a pulse pistol not a lover."

"You wouldn't think so, the way he talks to it," I said, laughing.

" _Winona_ is _not_ an it!"

Aeryn gave Crichton a long hard stare; It was clear she’d had enough of his dren. She shook her head, sending her ponytail swinging, and turned her attention to me.

"Come on Chiana. I think I saw a herbalist in the market and I want to see if they have a remedy for D'Argo's teething; I will go insane if I don't get a proper night's sleep soon."

We left the store together and on the way out we glanced back at Crichton and the male as they talked in animated tones about the intricacies of pulse pistol repair. Snuggled up on his back the narl shoved his little fist into his mouth and a string of drool dripped its way toward his Daddy’s neck.

“At least he’s happy now,” I said.

"Yes." An indulgent smile spread across Aeryn’s lips and I figured it might be a good time to try my luck at getting something I wanted for once.

"Why don’t we go get ourselves a drink? Or ten!”

Aeryn narrowed her eyes at me.

"One," she said.

I knew better than to argue.

**Author's Note:**

> This rather silly little fic was inspired by the prompt _"John dragging an exasperated Aeryn and Moya all over the galaxy trying to find a replacement for a broken Winona."_


End file.
